The thermometer showed a balmy 6 degrees F when we left my brother’s house. Jimmy and I had already decided the night before that our destination would be Hunter’s Lake in Sullivan County. It was early February, and our hope was that we could coax a few fish to take our baited tip-ups under the frozen surface of this northern lake. Jimmy told me the weather was a bit warmer than it was just a few days before, which had dipped to -10 degrees F. Did it really matter? We were standing on a giant ice cube covered with snow?

Some say that ice fisherman are a bit foolish, even a tad irrational, for putting on five layers of clothes and departing a warm house to go outside and stand in sub-freezing temperatures on a large chunk of ice. But, if you’re an avid angler living in a northern state, it can be a long and challenging wait until your favorite lake or river has open water available to fish. The winters can sometimes drag on for months (Hint: NOW). There’s only some much tinkering you can do with your tackle and gear indoors, before your desire to go outside and go fishing overcomes your rational thinking-no matter what the conditions! As Jimmy and I agreed, “We go ice fishing, but we don’t consider ourselves dedicated ice fisherman!”

When we turned on to the unplowed, access road leading to the lake, we should have taken the clue of not seeing any fresh tire tracks in the foot of snow covering the road. One thing we’ve learned over the years of occasionally venturing out to frozen waters is ice fishing is a social event, you tend to fish in small groups where other crazy ice fisherman are set-up. But, on this morning there were no signs of other humans. It was as if we were standing on the surface of a far-away frozen planet. We were by ourselves with no traces of any recent ice angling activity. Surprising? Yes and no. It was a Saturday in the middle of ice fishing season on a public lake, so we expected to see at least a couple of others. Maybe it was the cold temps, or the wicked winds that were beginning kick up. Maybe it was the forecasted snowstorm that was scheduled to hit in a couple hours, or maybe it was the 26” of ice we had to drill through to find liquid water (thankfully, we did have a power auger). We were here with all our gear and a few live shiners that Jimmy had sparingly kept alive in his aerated minnow bucket, feeding them goldfish flakes since his last ice trip. It was time to give this a shot!

 We set-up 6 tip-ups at various depths extending out from the shoreline. Jimmy also drilled us each a hole to jig in, while sitting in our chairs. The jigging holes gives you something to do while waiting for a flag to pop up on one of your tip-ups. We were pleasantly surprised when, after only waiting for 30 minutes or so, one of the flags near the shore rose up quickly. Jimmy was up first, running toward the tip-up like a hungry grizzly ready to pounce on a salmon! As he approached the spool he noticed it was spinning-a good sign that a fish, bigger than his well-fed shiner, had grabbed the baitfish and was running with it. It was then I broke the cardinal rule in ice fishing. In my excitement and anticipation, I bellowed out, “Set the hook!” Jimmy just ignored me. “You should not bark orders across the ice for a fish that’s not yours,” I said to myself, as I bowed my head slightly in embarrassment and just watched. As he pulled on the line, I saw the line go limp, then saw Jimmy relax back on his knees. The fish had bit through the line and got away. Jimmy gazed around the cold, barren lake as if looking for some kind of sympathy from someone. But, the only thing he could see, was me, standing there in my old, worn-out Carharts, like a large, brown water buffalo staring in disappointment. Bummer! We both got a little satisfaction about an hour later as I yanked a 16” Pickerel from the same hole he had lost his fish in earlier. Sensing it could be our only fish, we proudly took several photos before releasing it back into the cold, dark water.

When you’re the only two people foolish enough to be out on a frozen lake in February in single digit temps, corkscrewing holes through 2’ of ice while 25 mph winds blow your chairs halfway across the lake each time you get up to check a flag, you both get credit for catching the only fish of the day. That’s ice fishing! Bring on spring-it’s time for the ice to melt!